


After Innsmouth

by moondoor_majesty



Category: Mythos (Radio), The Shadow Over Innsmouth (BBC Radio)
Genre: Couch Sex, F/F, Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27669019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moondoor_majesty/pseuds/moondoor_majesty
Summary: Set about a week after the ending of The Shadow Over Innsmouth. Parker turns up at Mary's place - well, the place she's been living in, anyway.
Relationships: Mary Lairre/Parker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	After Innsmouth

“So, you’re you again, then...? Finally?” Parker inquires, stepping into the entrance of a place listed, officially, as belonging to ‘Eleanor Peck’.

Mary had called her, less than an hour ago... but also, far too many days after the enchantments involved in the cover personality were _supposed_ to have naturally hit their end. Not that it had gone exactly as planned, at any step of the way.

“I think so? Mainly... unless you count occasionally having no idea which of my memories and interests are actually real or not,” she tells Parker. Which sounds completely un-worrying...

“I did warn you...” she recalls.

“Yes, I know. Slight chance that specific type of magic might have a weird reaction with my warding... not strictly approved for use on ghosts... may cause irreversible loss of identity... consult your local chaos witch, if fugue state lasts for more than two years...” Mary rattles off. Following her further into the living area, Parker gets the distinct impression that Professor Eleanor Peck was _exactly_ the sort of person to put a bookshelf in the background of her Zoom calls. There are certainly enough of them. “I’ll be fine. Always am. I just _never_ want to do that, again. Seriously, the next time I think, ‘here’s a good idea – why don’t I become a completely different person, because I think the case demands it’... you might want to try harder to talk me out of it?”

“Like that could happen...”

“What?” Mary glances over at her, as if she hadn’t quite heard (but probably had) as she sits down on one of the sofas.

“Nothing...” Parker sighs, and joins her. “I don’t think I could take having to work with someone that annoying again, anyway.”

“ _I_ was annoying? Do you want me to start going over some of your more ridiculous personality constructs?” Mary offers, and Parker can practically see the list blooming behind her eyes. “The hippy who took forever to conjure a spell? Or... the one that was really more like a walking bad-luck magnet? I liked the leather, and the fights skills. And the other skills. But that ‘making me think you’re unconscious’ thing got really old, fast.”

“At least I always remembered who you were...” Parker mutters, sullenly prodding a particularly furry throw rug, with the toe of her boot.

“Technically, it wasn’t supposed to go like that –” Mary counters.

“Yes, I know. Because the great Mary Lairre thinks she’s infallible....” Sure, Mary might have lost everyone she’d ever worked with – aside from Parker, so far – but gods forbid anyone worry they might lose _her_. That she might finally step into something she can’t come back from.

On top of the fact that it was just _shit_ , really – the longer it went on. The longer Parker had to watch yet another person she loved completely lose all sight of who they once were.

“I don’t –”

“Look, it was just weird for me, alright?” Parker sighs. “Having you look at me, like I’m some kind of stranger.”

“Weird for _you_? I spent the past five minutes before you got here trying to remember what kind of wine I like.”

She gestures at the trio of bottles currently sitting beside the pair of wine glasses on the coffee table, in front of them.

“You don’t,” she tells Mary. “I mean, you don’t hate it. But you’re more of a beer person.”

“Exactly!” she makes her point.

Parker eyes one of of the bottles - a white, in sapphire-tinted glass. "Blue nun?"

"I know. I can't remember if I got it on sale, or if I was subliminally trying to remind myself." A mobile phone near one of the glasses suddenly vibrates. The name ‘Kennedy Fisher’ pops up on the caller ID, but Mary lets it go to voicemail. There’s a certain irony in the idea of Mary Lairre apparently _ghosting_ somebody. “She keeps calling me. I’m not sure I know what to tell her.”

“Have you tried, ‘I’m actually a 400-year-old undead nun, who secretly works for the Department and was under some _very_ experimental deep-cover magic, the entire time I knew you’?”

“That might actually be one of the least strange things she’s heard, this year,” Mary considers. “Does anyone know what happened to Matt, yet?”

“They’re not really looking into it.” As long as the portal to whatever alternate dimension he likely fell into stayed sealed, one missing podcaster wasn’t really a huge concern for the Department. “He’s probably alive? Unless he’s managed to get himself eaten by an ancient god. Could go either way.”

“Right...” Mary contemplates, worrying at the edge of the phone that’s finally gone still and silent.

“You don’t still have a thing for him?”

Parker had been hoping the crush had just been a weird fluke of the Eleanor Peck personality. Alright, Matthew Heawood was arguably attractive... but, he was also a person who wasn’t _her_.

“I don’t like losing people. You know I don’t,” she replies, in earnest. “Even podcasters, who had no business being where they were.”

“I swear, if he does turn up somewhere, and you propose a threesome...” Parker sighs, leaning back against the back cushion.

“Who says you’d be invited?” Mary cheeks. “He and Kennedy seem to have a certain vibe... she’s not bad, either.”

“You’re dumping me for a pair of podcasters? Nice.”

“They ‘let me talk’...” Mary quotes, pouring out a pair of glasses from whichever bottle is currently nearest to her. She glances over at Parker, suddenly curious about something. “ _Does_ this version of you have a first name?”

“No, because first names are things people get called by the people they’re close to.”

“So, you created a lone-wolf, shadow-spy personality type? Isn’t that begging the magical ecologies, a bit?”

“I did it _after_ you went full-mindwipe,” Parker states, as if it should be entirely obvious. Obvious that of course having to be stuck dealing with everything _alone_ would require her to be like that.

And, obvious that this definitely isn’t _Parker’s_ fault, that things went so... as they did. Even if Mary might be pointing out a slightly valid point, right now. But, she's so not about to give her the satisfaction of it. 

“Do you plan on becoming someone less mad at me, any time soon?” Her girlfriend queries - taking a drink and seeming to deem Eleanor’s taste in red wine ‘not too bad’, judging by the look on Mary's face. The face Parker came _so close_ to just wanting to seize and kiss, back in that cottage... for as long as it took for her to remember who she was.

“I’m not mad at you, Mary. I _missed_ you,” Parker clarifies, shifting up to meet her. Passing her fingers in through a stretch of soft, brownish hair. “More than my current persona is probably capable of admitting.”

“I... would say I missed you, too. But I didn’t actually know who you were for a while, so... ” Mary says, after a pause – though, she certainly begins to _kiss_ Parker like someone who’s been longing to do so, for a very long time. Like she needs her just as badly, right now.

Her fingers trace up Parker’s thigh. Curving inwards, overtop the tight denim – while Parker wastes absolutely no time in seeking out as much bare skin as she can, beneath Mary’s top.

“Should I show you all the other things you like?” Parker utters, quietly, against her lips. Then drops down to press her mouth down below Mary’s jaw. Moving, ever slowly, towards a very particular spot near her ear. Kissing and sucking and carrying on with it, until she feels the ghost shiver and gasp.

And, even more so – when Parker delicately teases at her breast – feeling the rewarding peak of Mary's nipple, against the fabric of her bra.

Somehow, just as Parker succeeds in removing Mary’s top, she winds up with the other woman atop _her_ , on the couch. Mary’s fingers deftly undoing her jeans, and sliding right in against her.

She definitely doesn’t _fuck_ like a nun. Never had, and it’s not long until Parker is practically at the edge, already. With a stream of undignified noises escaping her – every one a beg for Mary to keep going. To never stop. To explore her even further.

And so she does. Fingers slipping easily inside her, where Parker’s _so_ ready to take her in. Moving and curling, with such practiced ease – finding _that spot_ , that has Parker utterly, utterly at Mary’s will. Bursting in pleasure, as she shudders beneath her. Lost in waves of deep, wonderful, _overdue_ sensations.

She’s not sure how long Mary Lairre makes her come, for. Time seems to evaporate, amidst every peak and echo – like being caught in some kind of magic trance that isn’t actually _magic_ , so much as it’s simply the other woman’s skill.

“You _are_ back,” Parker breathes. Back, and _then_ some. She feels weightless, and dazed.

“I can walk through walls, babes.” There’s a gently kiss, pressing at the side of Parker’s neck. “Of course I was going to be alright.”

“Where’s the bedroom?” Parker simply replies. Eager to start repaying _that_ , as soon as possible.


End file.
